


It's Only Makebelieve

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Cannibalism, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, It's fucked up, Kidnapping, Obsession, One-Sided Love, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Anonymous asked: Hi! I really love the way you write and I was wondering if I could request something. Maybe a Lucas x reader where the reader becomes his girlfriend (or at least he thinks she is) somehow. And, only if you're comfortable with it, it has noncon / cannibalism in it? You don't have to write this if you don't want to and sorry if it's vague.I did my best to write something along these lines. I wrote this while I was in a terrible mood. Hope it works well! I was cathartic to take my anger out on something like this.





	It's Only Makebelieve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



It’s in the garage that you get cornered. All that running - all the sneaking and close calls have ended here, in this place with the car engine steaming and hissing. Your ears are ringing, nose gushing blood that spills between your lips, catching on your tongue. You’ve crashed your only means of real escape, dented into the garage door, making it resemble crumpled paper - the personification of frustration. It doesn't even come close to the level of bitter resentment you feel right now. 

Beyond the needling noise in your head, you can hear ‘him’ laughing.

For now, at this moment you pray for the car to explode; showering your burnt carcass in so many pieces that Lucas will never be able to put you back together. 

You'll never be so lucky as to die - to really die. 

It’s all pointless. Life. Death. Lucas... 

You may as well have never run from him - from Lucas. The madman was fast, and while you’d been faster, he knew this house, and you didn’t. He was smarter than you as well. It hurts to admit that you’ve lost, even more so than the pounding pain in your head or the jagged wound on your arm where the glass from the windshield has sliced you so deeply.

But this is the end. It's your last moment of tender freedom, and it wasn't even worth the effort as you see it now. Better to have not tasted it, even briefly, just for it to slip so effortlessly through your fingers. 

Without warning the driver’s side door rips open, hinges screaming. The torn door skids across the garage floor, knocking over old paint cans in a startling amount of noise. The spider-webbed glass curtaining the window falls into shards on the floor in a final crash. 

You turn too slowly to get a good look at his face before he's snatching you up; spitting a snarl down your chest. 

Lucas pulls at your messy hair, twisting the long braid of it around his knuckles and drags you out, pulling you, kicking and gasping along the floor of sharp safety glass even though you grunt and curse. 

All those little slivers of glass and scrap slice through your flesh with little to no resistance. Your bare legs weep blood; sting with sharp cuts both deep and shallow. You feel like one of those deep-sea creatures brought to the surface; flesh melting against the world around you. Lucas’ hot breath paints your bare shoulder, smothering your pores in him. 

How is it that you're not the same person already? Every second of every day you feel more and more porous; absorbing everything you touch and nothing - no one - touches you more than Lucas does. 

If you ever did escape there's no way he’ll ever fully wash off. His main goal’s been accomplished already, you're more him than yourself, you think. 

It doesn’t matter. Escape is meant for the mind, not the body anyway. 

In a few hours, he’ll have you cleaned and dressed, with bandages and healing balm soothing the pains you caused yourself. Soon he’ll be stroking your skin, whispering sweet filth into your lips. Soon Lucas will lay you out like a white lamb for slaughter and find whatever happiness he thinks he can find inside you… and you’ll lay there and take it, because what else could you throw at him that hasn't already failed? 

None of it matters.

“There, there now, baby,” he soothes, fisting you hair until you’re sharing the same breath. He reeks of day old meat and sour mold. The fumes rise off him like steam. 

Lucas’ cold touch hurts as much as the wounds that leak, but it's supposed to be gentle and it is, in his own way. There are no beatings, only untamed love bites and over eager movements. If Lucas hurts you, it's never his plan… it’s just a side effect of his passion. 

Lucas’ thumb catches on your sticky lower lip, bathing in snot and blood which he makes a show of tonguing off his thumb like it’s syrup. 

You've seen him crunch his own fingers broken and bloody just to get the last bits of flavor of your cunt off them. Pain is just another extension of pleasure to him, or maybe he doesn't know the difference anymore. 

Right now you're thankful he’s satisfied with a brief taste. The way your head spins only makes your empty stomach feel raw - too tender to watch him crunch the tip of his thumb off and swallow his own viscera down. 

You watch, too close, as his eyes bulge with lit desire, dirty tongue skimming the sharp edges of his teeth. 

“Gawd… Ya really know how ah’ tick ya know that?! I was just startin’ to get bored with the retard in the swamp, but you… ooo’oh baby, you knew what I needed. Little chase, ah little blood and some hot pussy,” he mouths ‘pussy’ against his slick thumb, sucking off the rest of the blood with a pink grin before his fingers tighten in your hair, bringing your lips together.

The rank taste of blood makes you gag. 

His tongue slides between your lips like a well-honed blade; slurping up the taste of you until your mouth feels dry despite him licking each divot of pallet gum and tooth. Lucas drains you, everytime and always and like a toy without it’s stuffing, you sink into his arms; empty. 

You hate him, but he loves you, and you’ve gotten real good at going with the flow, even though you were so fucking close to freedom this time. 

Now the station wagon is crackling with flames, and your stomach sinks as Lucas gathers you up, hefting you against his rail-thin chest in a level of judgment not fit for the state of his cock, which bumps your thigh like brand. He has enough blood left in his brain to walk you to the workbench, far enough away from the licks of heat coming from the engine, that when and if it blows, he won’t have to stop to put you back together again - won’t have to stop fucking you.

Running had been stupid. Each time Lucas catches you it's the same old story - the same furious need as before. He’ll be unable to keep himself off you until the toxic lust has been drained. Then he’ll fix you up… good as new. 

“Look at us now,” he grunts, stomach curling under the sagging sweat-stained undershirt, “it’s like old times! ‘Member when we played hide and seek in the barn? - Yeah, ya tried that whole hard tah’ get thing on me. But ah knew… yur cunt gets so tight when you fuck with me like this.”

Lucas pins you against the filthy bench, ribs smashing against the edge, naked tits digging into hapless nails and metal shavings. You wonder if waiting to run after putting some clothes on would have softened the crunch of your ribcage… but the fabric would have slowed you down, and you reasoned that once on the highway you could have found a police station or hospital to take you in and clothe you. 

Something new opens up - a wedge of hatred previously buried - and knowing what’s about to happen, you let the tears flow. Lucas can’t see them at this angle, and even if he did, he’d ignore them. He’s not himself, none of them are. Sometimes, when he’s not invading your body - your mind - you wonder what he’d be like if he were sane.

A brief little flash of an overly affection, perverted Lucas with too much love to give triggers a sob in your throat. Some skinny, gangly guy only stopping his engineering expos to feel a little love… a little warmth from someone else. 

You can see a flicker of the real him sometimes, but it's hidden too well under his unstoppable taste for flesh and pussy and death. 

Lucas is too busy fondling your ass one-handed to notice when you start to cry, maybe he even mistakes it for a sob of pleasure. His fingers curl in your hair, ripping strands free from your scalp but you’re so jacked up on adrenaline and terror that you barely feel it but for the pressure. Even the pounding in your head seems far away and weak when compared to the dense fog in your skull.

Each breath comes shorter than the last until it feels like you're swimming through air.

Without warning the heel of his hand slips between your ass cheeks, delving down until you tense as three fingers stuff there way inside your wet cunt. You pant through your nose, watching through your tears as wood dust and little dead nats blow away against your breaths. Lucas fingers you just long enough to get the juices flowing before you ready yourself at the sound of his belt buckle clinking. Each time he takes you, you tell yourself it's the fear that makes you so wet. It's natural for the body to lubricate itself rather than let itself tear. 

It's natural...

The gentle sound of denim folding to the floor mimics the tension of a dull chopping block.

With a swallow, you reach with shaking arms towards the support pipes bolting the bench to the wall, get a good grip and hold on tight enough that your veins bunch and knuckles go white. Once Lucas gets going he forgets himself more than usual. You're not sure which you hate more, his so-called ‘lovemaking’ or the really rough fucks he lets loose on you. Tonight you’ve given your longest chase yet - so close to getting free - that you know it won’t be ‘sweet.' 

He’s gonna make you bleed - bleed more than you already are. Lucas won't do it because he wants to… your blood doesn't phase him, but his goal has never been to make you suffer. 

The fucker loves you after all. 

It’s a thought that sinks your stomach like a rough night of food poisoning, but you can take it. Your body can handle him, even if your mind struggles.

“Ah’ love you, baby,” he admits against your neck, lips worming around the words just at the edge of your hairline, tickling your nerves until goosebumps rise on your limbs. 

He releases his hold in your hair, pulls your ass cheeks apart and wedges the entirety of his cock through the tight ring of your cunt. It shouldn’t feel good to be violated by him, but it always does. Even the first time he’d fucked you on the meat slab when his old man wasn’t looking… even then it had felt good, despite not wanting a single fingertip of his on you. 

More tears squeeze forth, spilling over your lashes as your arms tense, fingers throbbing. It’s the same old story - the first few moments you promise yourself you won’t moan or whimper, but by the halfway mark you’re always hungry for more. It’s your own infection. Everyone has their own particular breed of disease.

Lucas’ sickness has manifested in the need for ever complex killing, for companionship and sex and affection and someone to tell him he’s worthwhile as he pushes the button on another life. Somedays your’s is planning escapes that always end in this… and at this point, you wonder if it isn’t some way to cope with wanting him like this, by pretending it’s punishment - that it’s rape. 

There’s no way rape feels this good… no way you’d put yourself in front of the oncoming car just to get hit over and over again until you liked it. 

Lucas pulls back, heels crunching broken glass as his cock slips out of your cunt with a wet, sad flop. He snarls, tugs you around and angles his cock back in place before he rams it back inside, hitting a nerve of pain and pleasure that jolts you against the bench; skin catching around the beams. 

“...fuuuuck me,” he groans greedy and satisfied at once, “what’s gonna blow first me… me ‘er the car. Whatcha think, baby?”

“You,” it slips out past the clog of stress in your throat. 

Lucas laughs until it dissolves into a messy string of male grunts; mimicking the slap of skin as he begins a brutal rhythm. There’s no pretense. No warm up. You’re insides stretch and drag around his plundering and retreating cock until the pain numbs and… as it always does, the pleasure comes.

Lucas runs his short nails into the supple flesh of your ass, takes hold and hefts you up into the hollow of his hips. His thrusts run shallow, deep and the soft curl of his pubic hair tickles your cheeks as he grinds and bumps, trying to edge so deep you’ll never be rid of him.

He hits that spot and your mind cuts, flashing white like a short circuit and just like that you scream. 

You scream your throat raw - the sound bouncing in your throat as he holds your feet off the ground, working your hips and ass into him until your arms go straight against the beams and you're holding yourself to the supports in fear of him dragging you back into darkness.

If he takes you to the ground, he’ll fuck you into the floor until your hip snaps. 

Behind you, the car explodes, throwing hot shrapnel across the garage. 

Heat bakes your naked skin and a piece of torn metal flies towards you, sticks into your ribs, cutting deep enough you lose your grip, falling down against the bench. Your chin smacks the edge, teeth rattling, before you follow Lucas down to the floor, your bodies never separating.

With a furious touch, Lucas rips the metal from between your ribs. His nose bumps your scalp, teeth running the crest of your ear, never missing a thrust while blood fills you like a sinking boat. 

You breathe blood as his palm slaps the floor beside your shoulder and fucks you into the ground. Pain bathes each breath in dense red until you're choking on the gushes.

“Luh….hgg…” you try, but words drown nearly as fast as your breath. 

Your cheek scratches into the floor, body pummeled by Lucas and his manic need to become something more than a loser - to feel you clench around his dick, so he feels worthwhile. It’s all so sad that you feel more tears burn your lids, wondering if they're for him or for you as blood leaks out of your mouth.

“C’mon, baby. Breathe through it fer me…” he pants, shoving a palm against your lower back to hold you still while he works; sliding brutally slow within you.

You gurgle, fingering the floor; nails curling into the cement as your lungs try to expand past the weight of blood. With a suffocating terror you cough, spraying red along the floor. It glistens against the crackling flames from the car explosion. 

This won’t be the first time you’ve died… but it doesn’t mean you’re any more prepared for it when the cloud of black starts to creep in. 

So afraid to die, you barely notice his cock sink deep and stay there. 

Lucas yanks at your shoulder, twists you around until you’re limp against the floor with his lips latched tightly around the bloody stab wound over your ribs. He sucks, gulping down heaping mouthfuls of blood and fluid, making happy grunts as he does. 

It hurts… but it's much like lancing a wound - no, it's exactly like that. He's dredging you like a crew on the boat, and little by little the fear recedes into tentative disgust. 

Like a baby on its mother tit, you think with a head full of cotton and aimless thoughts. Around his cock, your cunt squeezes like an animal in its death throes. Pleasure runs like a fever over your skin. 

Once more you hack up a bubble of blood, feel it slide its way down the side of your face to the floor before you manage a weak breath. Lucas drinks with inhuman thirst from your saturated lungs, gulping so much down that you feel cold and numb by the time he’s rising up, pulling your knees around so he can fold you on your back, legs bent. 

“Good as new… good as fucking new! - and feel that pussy! Ahhgh, gawd’amn…” he pants, watching you with blood dribbling down his chin, staining the filthy undershirt, “I’m gonna fuck you until ah gotta suck cum outta your lungs…”

You wheeze, stare up at him and shudder as he picks up his pace again, watching you with bulbs of fire and gasoline.

He’s so pale you can nearly see through him. It’s the first good look you’ve gotten of Lucas since running away that morning. The cast of yellow from the flames makes the blue veins running through him green… so much more like a man on the end of his life. But he’s far from dead. 

Too weak to fight - too weak to pull him close - you simply puff out soft moans as his thrusts bounce you along the meat of your back. Your breasts slap over your ribs. Your eyes too weak to close or open fully. 

Under a half-lidded gaze you watch as his teeth part, lips curl back around his gums and those eyes… those fucking eyes stab into you as well as his cock does.

He’s pulled your ankles together, has them crossed over one shoulder when you finally come. It’s too powerful. The pleasure strangling your lower body, spreading like a pool of blood, all warm and thick and…

“Lucass…” you breathe and watch his brows pinch. 

That little worry line grows deep between his eyes while his nose wrinkles and his teeth snap shut. It’s a fierce, mean look but it’s primal in all the ways it ought to be, and the sight of it feels as alien and comforting as the way his cum spurts inside you. 

Lucas’ groans turn guttural, chopping and deep enough you could close your eyes and confuse them for thunder, but they’re not. He’s worse than a hurricane… worse than any natural disaster could be. He’s wrong and disgusting, and when he leans down to kiss you like you love him back you can’t stop from crying. Lucas smiles against your lips, licking blood into your mouth as you sob and weep.

His breath catches as your insides give one last, traitorous quiver around his softening cock. Against your lips, he sighs, “What'd I ever do to deserve you, baby?”

Nothing, you think… already planning your next escape.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have the time, please leave me a comment and let me know what you thought. 
> 
> Thank you to Darth Fucamus for her insights. <3
> 
> Tumblr ----> http://brimbrimbrimbrim.tumblr.com/


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